


Satisfied

by VTsuion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/M, John Watson's Wedding, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Past Relationship(s), Sherlock Holmes Gives the Toast, Song: Satisfied (Hamilton)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: Watson is getting married, but he will never be satisfied. Holmes will never be satisfied.





	Satisfied

There was a general call for silence. It was time for the best man, the illustrious Mr. Sherlock Holmes, to speak.

I stood. Watson looked up at me, his bright blue eyes shimmering with hope. I took in a sharp breath - half a sigh - and raised my glass in a toast:

“To the bride,” I said, and the other guests echoed me in a chorus.

“To the groom ! ”

Alone, I continued, “From your friend, who has been always by your side.”

“To your union,” I resumed the toast and again the other guests chorused after me.

“And to God in heaven,” the chorus cried.

_ May you always be satisfied… _

 

I remembered that night...

 

_ (Rewind) _

 

I would regret that case for the rest of my life, Watson tripping over himself to win her praise.

 

_ (Rewind) _

 

I remembered that night like a candlelit dream, made hazy by the passage of years.

 

_ (Rewind) _

 

“Dr. John Watson, I will never forget the day we met,”  _ I will never be the same. _

He was a soldier, recently returned from war, still bearing the marks of battle upon his hollow face. His bright eyes seemed to shine with a hunger that was more than just a will to survive. I saw him and everyone else seemed to dim in comparison.

 

_ This is not a game. _

 

“You strike me as a man who has never been satisfied,” Watson said and broke the early months of silence between us.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself,” I said.

He smiled. “You’re like me. I’m never satisfied.”

“Is that right?”

He took my hand. “I have never been satisfied.”

When I did not answer he continued, “You must have deduced it yourself.”

“I gave you the benefit of the doubt,” but I did not withdraw my hand.

“I hope you will forgive me for not doing the same.”

Against my better judgement, I found myself grateful.

 

For five years, or maybe six, we danced through a dream. I never had such a companion. Not my match in wits, of course not, but still brilliant in his own way. Not radiant, but a conductor of light so powerful as to seem it. And as a partner he had no equal: patient and kind through all my many follies, not to say that I did not do my best to woo him as he wooed me. But who could survive on hasty glances and veiled language? The threat of discovery lurked at every corner.

And he was handsome with the modesty of a true gentleman and there was only so much I could do to keep him away from all those charming suitors who he admired just as he admired a becoming gentleman. It was only a matter of time before one truly caught his eye.

I could see it written across his face, plain as day. Hers echoed the sentiment with an all too familiar hope. I was helpless to do anything about it.

It was then that I could no longer deny it...

 

I spoke carelessly, pushing him away,  _ “He was a man of untidy habits,—very untidy and careless. He was left with good prospects, but he threw away his chances, lived for some time in poverty with occasional short intervals of prosperity, and finally, taking to drink, he died. That is all I can gather.” _

He rightly retorted,  _ “This is unworthy of you, Holmes, I could not have believed that you would have descended to this. You have made inquiries into the history of my unhappy brother, and you now pretend to deduce this knowledge in some fanciful way. You cannot expect me to believe that you have read all this from his old watch! It is unkind, and, to speak plainly, has a touch of charlatanism in it.” _

 

First and foremost I am a detective. I am nothing without my work, without those puzzles that elevate life from the commonplace to the extraordinary. Watson’s writing has brought me immeasurable publicity and success, but the accompanying talk and speculation is insidious. And he is a man. But of course, I wouldn’t want him otherwise.

 

_ “Miss Mary Morstan, hum! I have no recollection of the name. Ask the young lady to step up, Mrs. Hudson. Don’t go, doctor. I should prefer that you remain,” _ and thus I sealed my fate.

_ Miss Morstan entered the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. _

 

Second, I am a man. There is only so much I can give him in the world in which we live. He needs more than me; he needs the security and stability that only a woman can provide. I’d have to be naive to think that he could last a lifetime in fear of discovery. Maybe that is why I pushed him into her arms. But I fear I have proved him right--I will never be satisfied.

 

_ “You will, I am sure, excuse me,” Watson said, rising from his chair. _

_ The young lady held up her gloved hand to detain him. “If your friend,” she said, “would be good enough to stop, he might be of inestimable service to me.” _

_ He relapsed into his chair. _

 

Third, I know Watson perhaps better than I know myself. You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. The softer passions are as familiar to him as they are alien to me. If I were in his place, he would congratulate me warmly and be silently resigned. If I can do nothing else for him I must lie and say that I am fine.

But when I lie in bed at night I see John’s eyes. I cannot help but romanticize what was and fantasize what might have been had I not given him away so easily. At least he may continue to serve as my biographer. At least I may keep his eyes in my life…

 

“To the bride,” I said, and the other guests echoed me in a chorus.

“To the groom ! ”

Alone, I continued, “From your friend, who has been always by your side.”

“To your union,” I resumed the toast and again the other guests chorused after me.

“And to God in heaven,” the chorus cried.

“May you always be satisfied.”

And I know, he will be happy with his bride.

And I know he will never be satisfied. I will never be satisfied.


End file.
